The tumble was disorienting and fast. Sam’s limbs moved on their own to try to catch her, and she landed hard on her hip and hand. She heard and felt the snap as her wrist gave way, and she rolled off it and held it close. The pain was screaming red and all encompassing for what felt like an age. She must have screamed. She wasn’t sure.
She wouldn’t be able to climb back up with her wrist broken. Sam breathed deep and hard, pushing the pain away from her thoughts. There were things to be done.
“Sam!”
Above her, not as high as she expected, Quinn’s face peered over the edge.
“Are you alright?” they asked.
A wave of embarrassment washed over Sam. “Broke my wrist,” she called back.
“Right.” Quinn was too far away to read their expression. They disappeared back behind the edge.
The pain and the roar of her heartbeat and blood-rushing adrenaline made it hard to think. Sam looked around the bottom of the ravine as she waited. Astonishingly, there was the goldenseal crumpled on the ground. Sam pocketed it.
It was impossible to keep time, but eventually Quinn reappeared and dropped a rope with a loop on the bottom.
“Put your foot in the loop and pull it tight. Say when you’re ready.”
Sam tugged the loop closed and held white knuckled tight with one hand. “Ready,” she called.
The rope swung and Sam’s stomach rolled with it, and her knuckles scraped on the wall as she was pulled upwards. At the top Quinn grabbed her under her armpits and hauled her the rest of the way. Hannah stood a ways back with the other end of the rope, which was wrapped around a sturdy tree.
“Alright.” Quinn got Sam to her feet. “Let’s go set this wrist.”
Sam stayed quiet as she followed Quinn back out of the woods. Hannah stayed behind to finish their work. On the porch she finally remembered.
“Quinn,” she said, reaching into her pocket. When Quinn turned around she held out the sad looking plant.
Quinn was not as happy as Sam had hoped. She stepped back a little.
“Let’s get you fixed up and then we’ll talk,” Quinn said.
They went around to Quinn’s new little shed office, lit at strange angles by the sunlight from the huge window. Quinn patted a stool and turned to their shelves of things.
Sam tried to ignore the loud, insistent pain as she waited. Quinn poured something thick and purple into a little cup and handed it to her.
“It tastes fine,” they said before going back to looking for stuff.
The medicine tasted strangely sticky and sweet, with the faintest ghost of grapes somewhere in there.
Quinn sat down on a stool in front of her. “It’ll take a bit for that to kick in. For the pain.” They held out their hand. “Let’s see it.”
Sam put her busted hand in Quinn’s. They cocked their head, then reached for two little wooded sticks and a roll of bandage. Sam winced as they straightened her wrist.
The pain was dulling by the time the splint was finished to Quinn’s satisfaction. Sam braced herself for the talk Quinn had promised.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall.”
“I’d be pretty damn worried if you meant to fall.” The bitter edge to their voice made Sam’s spine go tense.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, looking down at the unbroken hand in her lap.
Quinn sighed. “Sam, look at me.”
Sam obeyed.
“I’m not mad. Alright? Accidents happen. I wish you hadn’t leaned over a ravine, but I’m not mad.”
Sam examined the splint. It was very tidy, her wrist immobilized but still somehow not too uncomfortable. “I’ll do more work when it heals,” she said.
They sat in a strange, unpleasant silence.
Quinn sighed again. “I’m going to go make some food.”
Sam stayed on her stool. The light was already dim, winter days still getting shorter. The office smelled like rubbing alcohol and wet plant matter.
Shame, said the voices in her head. Shame on you using up resources. Being foolish. What’s one plant compared to all these bandages? In some ways it was scary that Quinn didn’t yell. That they insisted everything was fine. When would she push too far? Sam wasn’t sure, and that mystery terrified her.
Comments (0)
See all